


Blood and Tears

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Bruce helped Clark. Clark returns the favor.





	Blood and Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up the day after the 2nd Annual ends; based mostly on the last few pages.
> 
> ...I don't remember the details of the Annual myself, but based on rereading my story, in the Annual Clark loses his powers and stays at the Manor while Bruce teaches him how to fight without them. The villain, Socrates, also did something to Bruce to make him vulnerable.
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal 31 May 2008.

That morning they _did_ track a lot of the money down, and they discussed, sort of, ideas for the Justice League. Clark would make Bruce see reason eventually. He hoped.

Once they got back to the Manor, Clark wasn’t sure what to do. He had his powers back. He didn’t need to stay. But he didn’t _want_ to go. And he wasn’t sure _why_. He’d grown used to the Manor, to Bruce’s gruffness, and certainly to Alfred’s warmth and Dick’s friendly chattering, but he missed his apartment and his normal life.

But still he packed his bag slowly, folding and refolding his costume numerous times until he finally decided to ask Bruce if he could stay another night just because he wanted to.

He sort of got the chance right away; Bruce was behind him, watching him from the doorway. Either Clark had been more distracted than he realized, or Bruce really was a phantom who made no sound. It was creepy. _He_ was creepy. But also generous, and strong, and sometimes a little kind, and always helpful even if the means to the end were a bit sadistic.

“Hi, Bruce. Practicing your stalking?”

“It’s voyeurism, actually. You’re not moving.”

Well then. Was that more or less creepy? “Actually, I wanted to ask--”

“I just talked to Dick. It finally took _him_ to get you to come out last night? That cliché line about Superman never quitting?”

“He’s an inspirational kid.”

Bruce uncrossed his arms and almost smiled at him. “I know. He’s done a lot for me, more than he knows.” His eyes flicked to Clark’s bag then back up. “Are you leaving?”

“I guess I should, right? I have my powers back.” Clark scratched at the back of his head. That hadn’t come out right.

Bruce looked at him blandly. “I guess so. Dick will be sad to see you gone. He liked having the extra attention, and someone else to spar with.”

“And having me to yell at meant you yelled less at him.”

“I don’t _yell_ , I _encourage_.”

Clark blinked. “Right. Shouting in my ear when my muscles are trembling so hard I can barely hold the weights you want me to lift above my head one more time. That’s encouraging. Like a drill instructor.”

Bruce cocked his head in that way that meant he felt he was making a good point. Clark had picked up on a lot of Bruce’s mannerisms while living with him. The problem was that he kept coming out with new ones, too. Like he was always reinventing himself for the audience so they’d always be on their toes around him. “Drill instructors are the way they are so their cadets don’t die. And I teach the way I do so that my pupils don’t die. You fought without powers and survived, yes?”

“Barely.” It had been humiliating. But important, he supposed. Just awful, too.

“But you did. That’s the important thing. And then you came back out and fought again. And saved me.”

“With Dick’s help.”

“But you were still there. Reminding me why I do what I do. Why every single one life I save makes it worthwhile. Pointing out the big picture, that there’s more than any single one experience. Things go bad a lot. But there’s good, too. A lot of it. Even if sometimes it’s hard to see.” Bruce stepped into the room. “I know I said it before, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there and stared at each other, and Clark felt more and more awkward with every second. Finally Bruce said, “No hug again? I must have underestimated your capacity for displaying emotion.”

Why, that little... Clark closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Bruce, mindful of his strength but also pointedly squeezing just a little too hard. Surprisingly, Bruce’s strong arms came up around his back, completing the embrace. It felt odd; it was rare that he and Bruce touched outside of training. Bruce just wasn’t that affectionate with anyone.

It also felt really good; Clark was a big man and it wasn’t often he was embraced by someone who didn’t make him feel even bigger, gigantic, like he could crush the person if he didn’t think about being careful. But Bruce was almost his size, and he knew the strength in those arms, heck, in his pinky finger, and he didn’t have to worry about crushing him.

And if he did, Bruce would kick his ass, so worrying was pointless.

The hug went on for what felt like too long, but Clark was having trouble letting go. Bruce felt nice and even smelled good, grit and sweat and rubber washed off from his earlier shower. It was... It was all suddenly very strange, what he was feeling, and fortunately Bruce chose that moment to push him away.

“So, Clark. Have a safe trip home.”

“What? Oh. Right. Home. Going home.” Why was he so flustered? It was just Bruce making the point that he wanted Clark to leave.

Bruce raised one eyebrow. “Unless you’d like to stay. So we can assess whether the return of your powers is permanent, that there’s no remaining shadows on them.”

“Uh. Sure. Maybe we should do that. Just in case.” And this way he didn’t have to leave Bruce and his sudden warmth, Alfred’s perpetual kind words, and Dick’s adorable smile.

“Okay. Alfred is making food, and then I’m going to take a nap since we’ve been out all night and morning and I could use some rest.” He didn’t seem all that confident when he said that last part. Odd.

Clark followed Bruce downstairs, and wondered if things were somehow awkward now that Clark was choosing to stay here, rather than had stay out of necessity. He was too tired to worry about it now. He’d think about it after he got some sleep, too.

 

*************

Clark awoke around eleven that night, glad for the chance to rest but unsure how he was supposed to spend the rest of the night. He could join Bruce on patrol, perhaps. They had worked well together that morning.

On his way down to the Batcave he bumped into Alfred, who told him that Bruce wasn’t going on patrol unless an emergency arose. “I feel, Master Clark, that Bruce could use a full night’s rest. Even if he doesn’t admit it. You’ll find him in the upstairs parlor down the hall from the master suite.”

Clark nodded and turned around, and wondered what the different was between a parlor, den, living room, and drawing room, and how many Wayne Manor had of each. He found Bruce sitting on a sofa and reading a book by the light of one lone Tiffany lamp on the end table.

Bruce looked up when Clark knocked on the doorframe. “It’s about time you got up. I thought you might sleep the whole night through.”

“Very funny. My body needed rest, and so did yours.”

“Yes.”

That was said awfully flatly. Clark joined Bruce on the sofa and took a good look at him. “Did you get some sleep?”

“No.”

“...Why not? You said you were tired.” And Clark didn’t want to say it, but Bruce looked awful, drawn and exhausted and his eyes red and bloodshot.

Bruce closed his book, sat there staring at it for a few moments, then turned to Clark. He looked haunted and very much like a little boy.

It hurt to look at him. “What’s wrong?” It was Bruce Wayne, he shouldn’t look like that.

“How did it feel to lose your powers? I know it was difficult, but I want to hear it from you.”

Well... “It was horrific. I’ve never felt that scared or useless. I just felt...” What was the right word?

“Vulnerable.” Bruce grimaced like he didn’t like the taste of the word.

“Yes. Exactly. But that was kind of the point, right?”

“Yes. But I’ve worked very, very hard to not _be_ vulnerable. I’ve trained and practiced, learned all I could, taught myself mental trick after mental trick to keep myself together, push through the pain, take my weaknesses and use them constructively, and then overall to try to _forget_ what started me on this journey in the first place.” He shook his head. “Not forget, but find a way to minimize the pain.”

Bruce stood to pace angrily around the room. “And then that bastard brought it all back in seconds. In those moments I wasn’t Batman. I wasn’t even Bruce Wayne. I was a scared little crying boy the way I was that night. It was horrifying. To have everything taken away.”

Clark’s heart went out to Bruce; he’d never seem him so worked up, certainly not about his personal feelings. “That’s how I felt.”

Bruce stopped pacing and leveled a glare at him that actually made him jerk his head back. “It’s _not_ the same. You had your powers taken away, the powers you’ve had since your arrival here, the ones given to you by your biology.” He started toward Clark and there was nothing about him that at all implied ‘vulnerable.’ “I _worked_ and fought to become Batman. And in the beginning I worked and fought to avoid the nightmares, fought to be able to sleep without seeing their faces, their lifeless bodies, clothing soaked with blood.” He stopped in front of Clark and looked down on him, making Clark feel impossibly small. “Mental barriers against that pain washed away in an instant. Gone. I’m afraid to sleep, Clark.”

It looked as if whatever the cause of the sudden fight that was in Bruce leaked out in a rush. “I don’t want to see it again. Relive it again. But I know that when I close my eyes I will. Every detail brought to the surface by Socrates.”

“Do you plan to just never sleep again? That causes insanity, you know.”

Bruce barked out sick-sounding laughter. “ _Insanity_? I fight crime dressed as a bat! I do my work in a cave! And most of all, none of it matters! I can never win. I’ll fight and fight, and there will still be pain and tragedy and evil and...”

Bruce kept ranting, and Clark tuned it out. Somehow Bruce didn’t seem to remember the conclusions they’d drawn about the positive aspects of his work. He’d also had more time to stew about it, worry about it. He really needed rest so he could be rational.

Unfortunately, he kept talking. “Hah! Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results! I’d say I do that in spades!”

Finally Clark had had enough. He stood, forcing Bruce back a step to give him room. “Shut up.”

Bruce’s eyes widened then narrowed. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Shut. Up. Here you are freaking out because you’re afraid of something? That isn’t the Bruce I know. The one who taught me to find myself after I lost what had always made me _me_. Yes, my powers were biological and I didn’t work for them. But that doesn’t make them any less of a loss than your barriers. Maybe more so because they were a part of my very being that yes, I’ve grown up with. Seeing myself actually weak, actually vulnerable, hurt just as much as you reliving your parents’ deaths. But yes, now that I have my powers back, I’m pretty much back to normal. Apparently it will take some work for you.”

The evil glare Bruce shot him clearly screamed, “You think?!” But all he said was, “That’s my point.”

“I can help you.”

“How?”

“I can listen, you can talk things out. Maybe part of the reason you’re having so much trouble is that you never truly healed. You blocked your pain rather than eliminating it. We can work through it. And if you have a nightmare, I can wake you up.”

“You’re going to sleep in my room?”

“If you think it will help.”

Bruce looked... Clark wasn’t sure how to describe how Bruce looked. Scared? Grateful? Confused? All of those and plenty more. It was disconcerting. “Maybe.”

They stood there awkwardly for another few moments. “Would you like to go to bed now? You look terrible.”

Apparently resigned, Bruce merely said, “Okay.”

*************

They had decided that it would just be easiest to share Bruce’s bed, since it was more than big enough for the two of them. They could probably have fit two or three more large men in without crowding each other. And this way, Clark could be right there if Bruce had trouble in his sleep.

Though they didn’t talk about it, Clark knew that this was going to be a very important experience for their relationship. Bruce had helped him when he was most vulnerable, and now here was his chance to return the favor as best he could. Helping a physically broken, bleeding Bruce was nothing compared to a mentally broken, possibly crying Bruce. In this instance, tears would be more frightening than blood.

Was that how Bruce had seen him, but the opposite? Clark wasn’t supposed to bleed, but he had in Bruce’s presence without his powers. He wondered what that had been like for Bruce to witness.

After quite some time, Bruce relaxed enough to sleep, his physical and mental exhaustion finally getting the better of him, no matter how he felt on the subject.

Having slept all evening, Clark didn’t fall asleep for some time, and of course hadn’t realized he did until he was awakened by the mattress twitching. No, not the mattress, Bruce kicking, maybe like he was trying to run. Clark moved closer and raised himself up to lean over Bruce, and saw how tightly squeezed shut his eyes were. He looked like he was in pain.

Carefully, Clark rested a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and shook him until he woke up. He tried to dodge a fist that came in his direction but since he wasn’t expecting it, he didn’t see it until it was too late. Maybe his superspeed needed more time to reboot. Finally Bruce opened his eyes at the pain of hitting him, and he shook his hand out in reflex.

“Bruce, are you okay?”

“It was all there again. Like I’m nine years old once more.” Bruce rubbed at his eyes like he was rubbing away tears, or maybe just waking himself up a little more. “Except instead of Alfred waking me after he hears me screaming, you’re here.”

“You didn’t scream.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “I used to. All the time.”

“Did you also try to hit Alfred?”

“Sometimes. If I was awakened when I was still trying to fight the mugger myself.”

“Oh.” Clark looked down at Bruce, taking in how stressed he looked, how pale he was, how tired he must still be, and how grateful he himself felt that Bruce had let him see him this way. He didn’t realize he was leaning down to kiss Bruce’s forehead until he’d actually done it.

He pulled back completely mortified. “Um. Sorry. When I was upset Ma would hold me and do that. Just kind of became the way to soothe me.”

Fortunately, Bruce looked amused rather than disgusted. “Alfred never did that. Maybe it’s not a Brit thing. Or a butler thing. Or a guy thing.”

“No, I guess not.” Clark felt himself blush like some stupid teenager.

“Neither is this.” Bruce reached up and wrapped one hand around Clark’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him on the mouth. It was short but very sweet, but also extremely confusing. “I don’t normally do such intimate contact, but sometimes it’s very therapeutic. Sorry if that scares you.”

“It doesn’t scare me.” The kiss itself, no. The way it was making Clark feel? Very much yes.

“Then why do you look so damn terrified?”

“I look terrified?” Bruce nodded. “I guess... Because... I don’t know what it meant.”

“It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

Bruce had always perplexed Clark. He was an enigma inside a riddle inside the chicken-and-egg quandary. Now was absolutely no exception. “Huh?”

“You haven’t felt it, Clark? This thing between us? The last few months, working together so closely, exposing ourselves to each other?” Bruce squinted like he was trying to use X-ray vision on Clark’s brain. “Maybe not. So either I’m... let’s not say insane, but confused, or _you_ are. Consider the way you invited yourself into my bed tonight.”

“As a friend!”

“Is anyone really a friend, Clark?” Bruce shifted up into a sitting position. “Or are people colleagues, coworkers, brothers, comrades, love interests, exes. Is it possible to have a relationship that isn’t about mutual goals?”

“Yes!”

“Name one friendship that didn’t have a benefit to it other than simply being friends. An adult relationship, not a childhood one where friendships are started and ended on who has the best toys.”

Like Bruce ever lost that competition. But he also seemed to have point. “I guess... you and I work together. I guess we don’t really talk about much outside of work, at least not before I lived here.”

“Why did you really stay tonight? You could have gone home once we were finished.”

“I... Wanted to stay with you. As a friend.”

“Are you sure?”

Bruce’s sharp blue eyes bore into his, and Clark found it hard to think. He hadn’t wanted to leave. He wanted to see more of Bruce. He wanted more of Bruce. Somehow he had misinterpreted that somewhere along the line. Or was Bruce just... not crazy. He was going to be careful from now on to not call Bruce crazy. Confused?

“I don’t know.”

This time Bruce’s kiss was longer and harder, but still just as sweet. And it felt very good.

When Bruce pulled away, he didn’t look anywhere near as tired anymore. He almost looked vibrant. If it were another man, Clark might be tempted to say ‘giddy.’ “Take your time to figure it out, Clark. I know we have our issues, both separately and together, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been feeling... _something_ towards you. How often do you think I let people spend the night in my bed?”

“Um, every time you have a party here. I’ve been to a couple. You always leave with some woman on your arm.”

“They don’t spend the night. Not in here with me.” There was a challenging look on Bruce’s face, like he wanted Clark to prove he was lying.

“Okay, fine. So was your rant earlier just part of some elaborate scheme to make me question my sexuality? If so, it’s worked in spades.”

“No.” Bruce frowned. “I really do feel the way I said I felt. I don’t say things that I don’t truly mean on one level or another.

That wasn’t a comforting thought. “So, what now?” Clark certainly wasn’t going to sleep, not with the events of the last few minutes replaying themselves over and over in his mind.

“Sleep. Because we need it.”

“Here? Now?”

Bruce looked around. “My large, comfortable bed in the middle of the night is just as good a place as any.” But then he grew more serious. “And unless you’re truly concerned about me or yourself and would like to leave, I’d prefer not to sleep alone. Not tonight.”

Well, when put _that_ way... “Okay. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. If you’ll sleep better with me here, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.”

They settled back down again, and though Bruce fell asleep fairly quickly, Clark’s mind raced. Bruce was somewhat of a freak, emotionally crippled, occasionally cruel, and a _man_. Keeping up with just his mood swings and not worrying about anything else was a full mental effort. Why was Clark even _considering_ exploring any sort of deeper relationship with him?

The only answer he could come up with was that it was Bruce. It was the answer to every question asking why he was amazing and why he was infuriating. But perhaps the most compelling facet of the puzzle was that though Bruce hid it, he was vulnerable just like anyone else. He feared just like everyone else. And he knew that Clark, physically invulnerable though he was most of the time, had moments of weakness, too. But he was there to help him, the same way Clark was there to help Bruce. He didn’t want to see him in pain again.

Bruce was perplexing to say the least. But who didn’t enjoy a good riddle now and then?

He finally fell asleep wondering what his future with Bruce would be like. Their normal bickering and teasing, and no doubt more blood and tears from both of them. But there seemed to be a lot of potential for good, too, for comfort and strength and someone to be there when things got bad. They were good at that with each other. And maybe that was all that was really needed.


End file.
